Azyr

I said no to my alien match. Then I had to process his arrival paperwork.
Ninety-one point three percent compatible. I declined. I run the Earth Liaison Office. I'm the one who waves goodbye. I don't go. The IDA honored my rejection. My job didn't.
Azyr of the Veyathi filed his first-contact request before I said no, and I'm the only officer cleared to receive it. So now he's in my office... Tall, quiet, skin burning cerulean every time I walk in.
His translator just called me the harvest. He booked one week.
He's charted eleven unnamed systems and never stayed in a single one. I've watered the same windowsill herbs for twelve years. It would never work out.
He should be gone by now, but he keeps filing extensions.
I've spent four years telling other people they deserve to know the real size of their own life. I never once said it to myself.
If you love he falls first, he falls hardest, forced proximity, fated mates, malfunctioning translators, guaranteed HEA, then you won't want to miss out on Azyr, book 4 of Consumed by the Alien Heat, an Intergalactic Dating Agency book.